


I Was Afraid That You Would Not Insist

by ionsquare



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, mention of past T'Challa/Sam Wilson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 19:22:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7186907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ionsquare/pseuds/ionsquare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Sam and Bucky try to have sex it’s completely and utterly disastrous, but neither of them are perfect, and Sam still thinks Bucky is the hottest thing on two muscled legs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Was Afraid That You Would Not Insist

**Author's Note:**

> Look I told myself this would be nothing but a PWP, but clearly that's not what happened here. Yes, this is a sequel to my [other Sam/Bucky fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6909991); see the end notes for further discussion on this and the tags. As you read this you'll see that I really make Bucky and Sam work for it. lmao
> 
> All my love to Dani for her suggestions/constructive critiques/constant support. Any remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Title is from _Reptilia_ by The Strokes. Listen to it if you haven't. You won't regret it.

The first time Sam and Bucky try to have sex it’s completely and utterly disastrous, but neither of them are perfect, and Sam still thinks Bucky is the hottest thing on two muscled legs.

“Stop trying to make this better by objectifying me,” Bucky grumbles.

Sam’s propped up on his elbow looking at Bucky with a forlorn smile.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Bucky groans, trying to smother himself with a pillow.

“I’m sad because you aren’t listening to me, James Buchanan Barnes.”

“Yes I am,” Bucky says, voice muffled by the pillow.

“Did you not hear me when I told you I still want you to fuck me into the mattress?”

Bucky takes the pillow away, looking up at Sam’s face. “Was that before or after I got my foot tangled in the blankets and fell off the bed?”

Sam chuckles at the memory. “You’re still the hottest thing on two muscled legs, even when your naked ass falls off the bed.”

“C’mere,” Bucky pulls him down for a kiss, makes a pleased noise when Sam moves to straddle him. “You look good like this,” Bucky says between kisses, squeezing Sam’s thighs.

“I like -- Ow! Oh… Oh my god, ow!” Sam cries out falling over and clutching his right leg.

Bucky goes pale. “Sam, what’s wrong? Tell me what’s--”

“Fucking,” Sam wheezes, “cramp!”

Bucky smacks his forehead but pulls himself together to help Sam stretch his leg out, gently massaging his tight calf muscle.

“I just want your dick inside me,” Sam grunts.

“We’re useless,” Bucky laughs, sighing sadly.

Completely and utterly disastrous, but Sam Wilson doesn’t give up.

***~*~***

 

The first _first_ time Sam ever had sex, he lost his virginity to his best friend, T’Challa. It was the night before their high school graduation, and they were both nervous as hell, but in that moment, with his best friend, it was kind of perfect.

Until the first time Sam kissed Bucky, he didn’t think he’d feel that kind of perfect again.

 

***~*~***

 

Bucky Barnes and Clint Barton have but one agreement as roommates: no sex allowed in their dorm room. Sharing a space is hard enough, it’s even harder when you’re two young, virile men and awkward masturbation in the middle of the night is bad enough.

But then Sam wants to give Bucky a blowjob, and he can’t exactly say no to that.

“I didn’t know you followed rules, Barnes,” Sam murmurs into Bucky’s neck, grinding down on his lap. “C’mon,” Sam coaxes, “I want to suck you off, and I know how much you like my mouth.”

“No sex,” Bucky reiterates, making a noise that sounds like a growl.

“It’s a blowjob,” Sam says, kissing behind Bucky’s ear. “Pretty please?” He whines a little in Bucky’s ear, rubbing his ass on Bucky’s crotch.

“Fuck,” Bucky hisses, “Sam, you tease, you know I’m going to say yes.” He reaches around to grab hold of Sam’s ass, squeezing hard and kneading until Sam’s making those keening noises.

He’s fucked. Clint is going to kick his ass.

Sam pushes him back and Bucky gives in, falling on his back and getting comfortable. He likes that Sam knows he’s a tactile person, constantly wanting to touch Sam, all that soft, beautiful skin and hard lines of muscle. Bucky needs to kiss him, tugging Sam down for a kiss, moaning as Sam continues to grind down on his crotch. Sam pulls away, keeping a hand on Bucky’s chest to hold him in place.

And then Sam begins leaving a trail of kisses down his chest, giving his nipples a little attention.

“You’re so sexy,” Sam says, making Bucky laugh. “I mean it.”

Bucky sucks in his lower lip, gnawing on it as Sam continues his way down Bucky’s body. It’s only when Sam kisses his left arm, his tattooed arm, that Bucky feels his control slipping. He likes how much Sam likes his tattoo. The reverence in Sam’s touch makes his heart clench, and fuck it, Bucky might love him a little for that.

Sam takes Bucky’s left hand and kisses his palm, traces the tattoo patterns on his fingers with his tongue, meeting Bucky’s eyes. Bucky curls his hand around Sam’s neck, palm sliding over his jaw to cup his cheek.

“Still with me, Barnes?”

“I’m right where I want to be, Wilson.”

Sam grins, leaning forward meeting Bucky in a heated kiss, fingers gripping the hem of Bucky’s shorts. Bucky keeps kissing him even as he lifts his hips, groaning when one of those big, warm hands touches his cock.

“Sam,” he breathes out, mouthing down Sam’s chin, nibbling along his jaw, “in the way.”

“What?”

“Shorts. Off.”

He spreads his legs for Sam once his shorts are discarded, pulling him back down for another kiss, but then Sam is pulling away, leaving wet kisses down Bucky’s chest. Bucky lies there staring up at the ceiling, eyes slipping shut when Sam’s mouth touches his hipbones. Bucky reaches down to squeeze one of Sam’s shoulders, bending a knee slightly, trying to get Sam’s mouth nearer to his neglected cock.

“So impatient,” Sam teases, looking up at Bucky, “I think you should be nice and ask me.”

Bucky can feel his jaw clench, nudging his knee against Sam’s side.

“C’mon, Birdman, you know how much I want it.”

“ _Just how much_?” Sam nips the inside of Bucky’s thigh, looking up at him. “I wanna know.”

Bucky’s mouth falls open but words escape him. Sam has started sucking a mark on the inside of his thigh, and Bucky’s fairly sure his brain is melting. Sam wraps his arm over Bucky’s hip to hold him in place, keeping his legs spread wide.

“Sam, please,” he says breathlessly, “it’s -- I need your mouth. Need something, anything, please,” he pleads.

Sam’s grip tightens the harder he sucks and bites, and when Bucky can’t stop squirming he finally guides his cock in his mouth. Bucky clenches up, resting a hand on the back of Sam’s neck, thumb brushing along his ear.

Bucky doesn’t hear the lock turning until the door swings open and Clint stands at the foot of his bed, glaring murderously at them.

“Buchanan!” Clint yells. “We had a fucking agreement!”

Bucky’s scrambling to throw a blanket over his lap but it’s useless, completely pointless, and his cock is slowly getting soft. And that’s the worst fucking thing ever.

Clint yells at them the whole time they’re trying to get dressed.

“That’s my shirt!” Sam hisses at Bucky.

“I don’t give a shit, let’s just get the fuck out of here.” Bucky rounds on Clint, shoving him back. “Okay we got it! You can stop yelling at us, Dad.”

“One rule, Buchanan. One fucking rule!”

Bucky slams the door on his way out, sagging against the wall and sighing heavily. He quirks a sad smile at Sam, tugging him close by the belt loops of his jeans.

“Thank you for the hickey,” Bucky says, pecking Sam on the lips.

“I was making you squirm,” Sam sighs sadly, “I still want to suck your dick.”

Bucky rests an arm across Sam’s shoulders just as Sam’s arm wraps around his waist, making their way towards the elevator. They share kisses while they wait, and Bucky keeps Sam pressed as close to him as possible.

“The night is still young, Wilson,” Bucky pulls Sam into the elevator, licking his lips, “and you can get started again. Right here.”

Sam drops to his knees right as the elevator doors slide shut, grinning up at Bucky.

“Challenge accepted, Barnes.”

 

***~*~***

 

Bucky has his vices, and unfortunately one of them is smoking. It’s not something he routinely does, but when he gets high strung and stressed out, he inhales and exhales and feels a little lighter. He’s just finished a test for his European history class, and he’s reached his stress limit. Sam helped him study all night with little incentives that included a lot of kisses, and the hickey below his left nipple and on his collar bone.

He’s not paying attention as he makes his way to Sam’s dorm when someone is suddenly saying his name. Someone who happens to be Steve Rogers.

“Bucky, right?”

Bucky scrutinizes him, remembering Sam’s words: “He’s nice, I promise. Cut him a little slack.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, stubbing out the cigarette under his boot.

“Guess you’re headed to Sam’s,” Steve says, glancing from Bucky’s face to his feet. Bucky glares at him.

“Why is that any of your business?”

Steve shrugs. “Just an observation.”

Neither of them say anything for the next few minutes, and Bucky’s irritated because he’d be with Sam right now, kissing his warm mouth, sucking his own claiming marks on his skin.

“Don’t hurt him,” Steve blurts out, “I’m not saying you will it’s just...he’s a good guy.”

Bucky’s confused, and a little offended that Steve assumes he’d ever hurt Sam. That’s the very last thing he wants to do, but the nugget of doubt is beginning to grow in his mind. Has he unintentionally hurt Sam without knowing? He doesn’t even acknowledge Steve before he’s turning away, walking faster to Sam’s dorm. His chest feels too tight.

When he finally gets to Sam’s room he stands there dumbfounded when the door opens, that feeling in his chest getting tighter when Sam stops smiling.

“You’d tell me if I’ve hurt you, right?”

“What?” Sam reaches for him, squeezing his shoulder. “What are you talking about?”

Bucky crowds up against him, trying to regulate his breathing. “I ran into Steve. He told me not to hurt you, said you’re a good guy. I don’t -- You know I’d never hurt you, right? I would never hurt you.”

“Hey, no,” Sam cups Bucky’s face, “don’t beat yourself up for no reason.”

“But--”

“Neither of us can promise that we won’t hurt one another, because anything can happen. But I know _you_ , and you’re not someone who’s cruel just to be.”

Sam wraps his arms around Bucky’s neck and Bucky can’t help clinging to him, burying his face against his shoulder.

“Steve’s known me since we were freshmen,” Sam explains, “he just -- he’s protective. Like you.”

Bucky blows out a harsh breath, nodding at what Sam’s saying, trying to get his emotions under control. He runs his hands through his hair before pulling Sam close for a kiss. He knows he tastes like nicotine, but he needs to kiss Sam, needs to feel all the soft and hard spots he loves about Sam’s body.

“How was the test?” Sam asks between kisses.

“It was a test,” Bucky shrugs, unzipping Sam’s pants, “think I did okay.”

Sam works on pushing Bucky’s jacket off his shoulders letting it drop to the floor. “Just okay? We studied all night, you better have fucking aced it.” His hands slide up under Bucky’s shirt, moaning when Bucky’s fingers wrap around his dick. “I mean it,” Sam grunts, hips jerking forward.

“Forget the test,” Bucky murmurs in his ear, “focus on me making you come.”

They collapse on Sam’s bed in a tangle of limbs and clumsy kisses. Sam’s pants are halfway off his hips until Bucky yanks them down making him arch up. Bucky pushes Sam’s shirt up and begins kissing his way down his belly, enjoying the way his body shudders under his touch.

“Bucky,” Sam gasps out, head tilting back into his pillow.

“I’ve got you,” Bucky promises, “where’s your lube?”

Sam freezes.

“I don’t want to give you a dry handjob, Sam.”

Sam sits up, staring at Bucky. “I thought you--”

“Do you… do you want to? Right now?”

“No, I mean yes, I just thought--”

Bucky silences him with a kiss, gently pushing him back down. “Where’s your lube?”

Sam fishes around in his bedside drawer, making a triumphant noise when he finds the good stuff, passing it off to Bucky. “I still want to. I really want to have sex with you.”

“Don’t worry, I still very much want to have sex with you too.” Bucky squeezes some lube on his hands, letting it get warm for a minute and then he’s slowly, very slowly stroking Sam’s cock. “What if I tell you what I want to do to you?”

Sam swallows hard, nodding eagerly. Bucky enjoys dirty talk, and Sam is happy to oblige him.

“I’d have to make you come at least once before I get inside you. I’m a gentleman, you know.” Bucky grins, squeezing just a little on the upstroke. “Get you on your hands and knees, slowly slide a hand down your back, and then grab your ass, squeezing hard. I do love your ass.”

Sam shudders a laugh. Breathing is rather difficult at the moment, because Bucky’s words aren’t even dirty, they’re true. Bucky wouldn’t say something if it weren’t true.

Bucky concentrates on stroking Sam’s cock, slowly squeezing on the upstroke again watching a small bead of come spill from the tip. He leans down keeping his eyes on Sam’s face, letting his tongue roll out to lick away that bead of come.

“Fuck!” Sam shouts, before covering his mouth, still whispering obscenities.

“I’d make you come with my mouth,” Bucky keeps talking, licking his lips. “Slowly lick your hole until you’re wet enough for me to push a finger in. You’d like that, right?”

“Yes, god, yes,” Sam groans, keeping his hands at his sides.

“You want me to make you come with my tongue in your ass?”

“Yes! Yes, I do, I want that,” Sam begs, “want it so bad.”

Bucky has begun to stroke him faster now, letting Sam fuck his hand, getting a nice grip on him. “When you come, I’d keep licking and licking until you’re overstimulated, begging me to fuck you.”

“Fuck me,” Sam whispers, hips thrusting up.

“Roll you over on your back, give you a kiss so you could taste your come on my tongue. Your beautiful thighs spread open for me, those strong legs wrapping around me on the first hard thrust. And fuck, Sam, you’re so tight and hot, clenching down on my cock.” Bucky keeps stroking, knowing that Sam’s getting close.

Sam reaches for Bucky, needing to touch him, kiss him.

“Bucky,” Sam groans, “please, Bucky.”

“Tell me what you need,” Bucky says, leaning down to kiss him. “Tell me, Sam.”

“More, don’t stop,” Sam whispers.

“Won’t stop until I make you come, until you’re screaming my name. When I’m fucking you -- God, Sam, you’re going to be perfect. Clenching as I thrust harder.” Bucky slides his hand off Sam’s cock, kissing away his whines. “Breathe, Sam.”

Sam keeps his gaze on Bucky’s, and even when he teases a wet finger around his rim, Sam doesn’t take a breathe until that finger is pushing inside him.

Bucky kisses along Sam’s collarbone, mouthing along his neck, kissing the pulse point there.

“Want another?” Bucky murmurs in Sam’s ear.

“Fuck, yes,” Sam exhales, “But I -- Please I need--”

“Touch yourself, Sam.”

Sam strokes himself while Bucky slowly finger fucks him. He wants to come so bad, but he wants Bucky to tell him to.

“You’re close, I can tell,” Bucky pecks Sam on the lips, “do you want to come?”

“Please… Bucky, please…”

“Come for me,” Bucky says against Sam’s mouth.

Sam’s mouth opens in a silent _O_ , squeezing his eyes shut, forearm straining with effort as he strokes himself to one of the most intense orgasms he’s ever had. He wraps his free arm around Bucky’s neck, kissing him as hard as he can.

“I know how hard you are,” Sam says, biting down on Bucky’s lower lip.

“Do something about it,” Bucky challenges.

Sam’s still a little shaky but he’s not weak as he pushes Bucky down on his back, straddling his thighs, rubbing a hand against the bulge in his jeans. Bucky stares up at him, and Sam just grins deviously.

“What did you say?” Sam clicks his tongue, slowly unzipping Bucky’s jeans. “You’d make me come once before you fuck me?”

“Sam--”

“I want you to fuck me right now.”

It feels like Bucky swallows his tongue, and somehow Sam gets Bucky’s jeans shoved down to his knees, and then he’s prepping, slowly stroking Bucky’s erection. He opens his mouth to say something but words escape him, his thoughts scatter, and all he can concentrate on is the illicit way Sam rolls his hips, still stroking his cock.

“Oh my -- Fuck -- Shit! Sam, wait. Oh my _god_ ,” Bucky groans, “Sam -- Condom. In my pocket.”

“So you _were_ prepared,” Sam chuckles.

“Ever since we started--” Bucky swallows, hoping Sam gets what he’s failing to say.

Sam feels warm, and not because he’s sweaty, no, this a different kind of warmth. Like when the person you really, _really_ like knew from the start that he wanted this -- this moment right here.

“Look at me, James.”

“Don’t you fucking--” Bucky laughs, turning his face away.

Sam rolls the condom on easily, biting down on a groan as he rocks back and forth slowly, guiding Bucky’s cock inside him.

“Don’t make me do all the work, James Buchanan Barnes.”

Bucky sits up, forcing Sam’s arms behind him, holding onto his wrists, staring into Sam’s eyes.

His gaze falters, looking down at Bucky’s mouth.

“Eyes up here, Samuel Thomas Wilson.”

Bucky lets go of Sam’s wrists, spreading his legs a little more, matching Sam’s rhythm. He can’t fathom that this is really happening, cupping Sam’s face in his hands. Speechless.

Sam collapses against Bucky’s chest, forehead touching Bucky’s, panting just as much as Bucky.

“Say something,” Sam whispers.

Bucky chokes on a breath, swallowing, shaking his head.

They wrap their arms around one another, each of them picking up the pace now, desperate for the release that's so close for both of them, their mouths meeting in a frenzy of quick, heated kisses.

“You’re -- You’re amazing,” Bucky says, shuddering when he thrusts up, getting a little deeper. “Are you okay?”

Sam laughs lightly, kissing him, moving faster.

“I feel fantastic,” Sam tells him, touched at Bucky’s concern.

Bucky slumps back, gripping Sam’s thighs. “Ride me. I want to… want to watch you.”

“Are you close?” Sam asks, bracing his hands on Bucky’s chest.

Bucky nods jerkily, eyes closed as he revels in how fucking good Sam feels right now, clenching on his cock, riding him hard. When he knows he’s about to come he slits his eyes open, watching Sam take his pleasure. It’s kind of unbelievable to watch.

Sam isn’t sure if it’s adrenaline that’s giving him the ability to stay upright, but he knows when Bucky comes, the way his knees draw up, fingers digging into Sam’s thighs. He rests his hands on Bucky’s hips, rocking him through his orgasm. Sam’s own release isn’t like the first one, but it’s good, Bucky’s hand gently coaxing it out of him before he finally collapses, laughing happily.

“Fucking… fuck that was,” Sam says, but he doesn’t even know where to start. He watches Bucky tie off the condom and toss it in the trash, dying to know what he’s thinking. “So… yeah?”

Bucky lies there, jeans shoved down to his ankles, staring at Sam.

“I can’t believe -- Come here,” Bucky kisses him, touching his forehead to Sam’s. “That was fucking fantastic, but now I’m starving.”

Sam laughs, taking Bucky’s left arm and wrapping it around him, kissing the tips of his fingers.

“We have plenty of time to eat,” Sam glances at him, “just wanna stay right here for awhile.”

Vices be damned, because Sam looking fucked out and sweaty after a good orgasm is Bucky’s new favorite thing.

 

***~*~***

 

Sam can't remember the last time he was this hungry, but his tray is just as full as Bucky’s.

“Hunger pains after sex are great,” Bucky comments, tearing into a buttered roll. “That means the sex was great.”

“I’ll let you have that one because it’s true,” Sam says, “but you’re still a cocky asshole.”

Bucky grins and blows him a kiss. He happens to glance over Sam’s shoulder and--

“Steve Rogers.”

Sam turns his head and then looks back at Bucky.

"Are you okay?" Sam asks, raising an eyebrow.

"He's your friend," Bucky shrugs, "I'm okay if you are."

Sam rolls his eyes, smiling easily when Steve walks over carrying a tray. "Pull up a chair," Sam says, eyes on Bucky.

Bucky glares.

"I can eat somewhere else," Steve says, looking at Bucky.

"Sit down, Rogers," Bucky sighs, "you look like you might cry if we say no."

"I don't cry," Steve says indignantly, sitting right in front of Bucky. "I wanted to...apologize--"

"Oh god," Bucky mutters.

Sam kicks Bucky.

"It's fine, Rogers," Bucky smiles tightly. "How's that?" Bucky asks Sam.

"You know what? I need more pizza," Sam announces, scooting back. "Be nice," he tells Bucky, stealing a kiss.

Steve watches Sam leave with a look of longing Bucky definitely understands.

"Why didn't you tell him?"

Steve blinks. "Sorry?"

"Why didn't you tell Sam you obviously like him."

"That's not -- I don't -- That's--"

Bucky eats a french fry, grinning. "You're cute when you're embarrassed."

"You're -- God, you're an asshole," Steve grumbles, stabbing his potatoes.

Sam comes back carrying too many slices of pizza for one person. Bucky raises his eyebrows at him.

"Did sex make you _that_ hungry?"

"Shut up, it's for all of us," Sam says, kicking Bucky again. "Clint wants to talk to you, by the way."

"Who's he with?" Bucky asks.

"Does that matter?" He looks at Bucky. "Okay it does; he's with Natasha."

"Fuck fuck fuck," Bucky hisses, leaving the table as fast as he can.

Steve watches with interest as Bucky leaves, and Sam's smirking, looking back and forth.

"Stop staring at my boyfriend's ass."

Steve startles, blushing hard.

"I mean I don't blame you--"

"Oh my god."

"--it's a great ass," Sam finishes.

"I hate you."

Bucky comes back to the table like a soldier walking out of battle. Sam frowns, checking him over for any signs of emotional distress, because Clint is a lot to handle sometimes. Especially when he’s mad, which Sam hopes isn’t why he wanted to talk to Bucky.

“Everything good?” Sam asks tentatively.

Bucky clears his throat, tying his hair up in a ponytail, tucking away a few stray hairs behind his ears. He takes a deep breath, reaching for a slice of pizza.

“Natasha wanted to, um, talk to me. Actually.”

“Who’s Natasha?” Steve asks, confused by Bucky’s demeanor.

“You don’t want to know,” Bucky says, glancing at Sam, “she’s...perturbed.” He tries to stuff pizza in his mouth but Sam stops him. “Okay fine I was eating chips in her car, remember I borrowed it the other night? Whatever I dropped a few ketchup packets in the floor, that I forgot about, and she stepped on them the next time she got in the car. And apparently it’s my fault that I ruined her new pair of white pants but who the fuck wears _white_?”

Sam and Steve sit there staring at Bucky.

“You put ketchup on potato chips?” Steve asks.

“She’s going to make you regret loving ketchup,” Sam laughs.

Bucky points at Steve, who throws his hands up in surrender.

“It's not like I did it on purpose,” Bucky says, kicking Sam this time. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

The rest of the night goes like that, Sam and Bucky playfully arguing back and forth while Steve watches on. Sam worries that Steve might be annoyed with them, or really bored, but he just smiles and tells them he had knowing better to do anyway.

At least Bucky isn’t glaring at Steve anymore; Sam counts it as a win.

Bucky gets antsy though, giving Sam these heated looks, and it gets harder for Sam to ignore those looks. At one point Steve excuses himself to go dump his tray, and Bucky wraps an arm around Sam, pulling him in for a kiss.

“Ready for round two?” Bucky grins.

“Let’s at least walk Steve to his dorm.”

Bucky sighs dramatically. “I’m fairly certain he can hold his own, have you seen him?”

Sam laughs, shaking his head.

“I’m serious his thighs are--” Bucky doesn’t finish that thought when Steve makes his way back to them, trying to ignore Sam poking at him teasingly.

“You guys leaving?” Steve asks.

“We were discussing your thighs,” Bucky blurts out, smacking Sam’s prodding fingers away.

“He was discussing your thighs,” Sam corrects.

Steve tries to hide his smile. “And what did you have to say about my thighs?”

Bucky stands up, crossing his arms, trying to maintain an air of stoicism.

“Oh please,” Sam laughs, nudging Bucky, “you like a good pair of thighs, don’t you?”

Bucky inhales and exhales slowly, glaring at Sam.

Steve laughs so hard, jumping suddenly when Sam hooks an arm around his.

“We’re escorting you back to your dorm,” Sam says, “Bucky needs to brood about your thighs for a minute, just ignore him.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, but he eventually meanders his way up to them, walking on Steve’s left. He catches Steve looking at his tattoo every so often, and Bucky thinks about one day sharing the story with him. That he actually wants to.

“This was fun,” Steve says with a smile, “thanks for letting me join you guys.”

Bucky slings an arm around Sam. “No problem, Rogers, and hey, don’t be a stranger.”

Steve swallows, looking a little shy. Sam smirks at him and Bucky, shaking his head.

They don’t leave until Steve is safely inside his dorm, giving them a wave before disappearing. Sam isn’t subtle at all when he slips a hand in one of Bucky’s back pockets, squeezing his ass. Bucky tightens his arm around him, kissing the corner of Sam’s mouth, his cheek, nibbling on his earlobe.

“Thank you,” Sam says, turning his face to Bucky’s, “for being nice to Steve after--”

“You were right.”

“Repeat that, but a little louder.”

Bucky pinches him, loving the laugh it gets out of Sam. “You were _right_ ,” he repeats with a little more conviction, “I guess he’s not so bad.”

“Neither are his thighs.”

Bucky groans, throwing his head back. “I’m never going to live that down.”

When they finally get back to Sam’s dorm, Bucky reaches for Sam’s hand, tugging gently.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asks seriously.

“I’m just… really glad you’re here. With me.”

Sam smiles. “There’s nowhere else I want to be.”

Bucky brings Sam’s hands up to his mouth, kissing his knuckles, the tips of his fingers. Before he makes the first move, Sam is already touching his lips to Bucky, and Bucky leans into the warmth of his body, moaning appreciatively.

“Let me show you how glad I am, in your room, with round two,” Bucky murmurs, hands sliding up and down Sam’s back.

“Round three in the morning? Maybe?” Sam asks hopefully.

Bucky grins, ready to go as many rounds with Sam Wilson as possible.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't want to commit to something too soon, so that's why I didn't combine both fics into a series. You feel me? I say "too soon" because if I'm inspired to write another story in this universe, then I will absolutely make this into a series. Who knows, I might even write some poly fic. ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN! 
> 
> I tagged Natasha because she is present, I just left her presence rather ambiguous. I didn't want to be rude and not tag her. I tagged T'Challa/Sam Wilson for obvious reasons. I'm sure some of you will want me to expand on them, and I don't know if I will but, he's a rather important part of Sam's life before college. I'll say that much.


End file.
